


darkened room

by venndaai



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Developing Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22691716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venndaai/pseuds/venndaai
Summary: One second he was on the bed, leaning over the man he’d fallen asleep with; the next, he was pinned against the stone wall.
Relationships: Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 13
Kudos: 160
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	darkened room

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Penknife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penknife/gifts).



Dorian was awake, and something was wrong. For a moment, panic gripped him. He was in an unfamiliar place, and it was dark, and something was wrong. He needed to get out-

He took a breath. Knowledge seeped into his sleep-addled mind. The room was not unfamiliar to him. He’d been visiting it regularly for nearly two months, and last night- last night he’d been tired, and the air had been cold, and the bed warm, and the Bull had said, “I don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow.”

“You’d really be up for round five?” Dorian had said, incredulous, and Bull had laughed and said, 

“In the morning? Sure.” 

So he’d let himself drift into sleep, the Bull’s broad blunt fingertips massaging his skull in a very pleasant manner, the Bull’s breathing a steady, comforting sound. 

It wasn’t steady now. Dorian sat up. The Bull was a huge pale shape in the dark, twitching and grunting. Dorian summoned a wisp to float in the air above the bed, shedding a pale colorless light. With its help, he could see that the Bull’s eye was open, and rolled up so only the white showed. 

“Bull,” Dorian said. When that had no effect, he called, somewhat louder, “Bull.” Still nothing. Gingerly he tapped the broad tattooed shoulder. It didn’t cease shaking. There was a glimmering tear track, from the corner of Bull’s eye down one long cheek; as Dorian watched, another droplet formed and fell. _Vishante kaffas._ Dorian grabbed hold of both shoulders, and shook vigorously. It was like trying to shake a mountain. 

“Ugh,” Dorian said, and gathered the tiniest piece of lightning into his hands, and shocked the Bull. 

The world changed dramatically in moments. One second he was on the bed, leaning over the man he’d fallen asleep with; the next, he was pinned against the stone wall, an enormous arm applying firm and unyielding pressure to his neck. Not enough to make him uncomfortable, but he was very effectively pinned. He tried to speak, and couldn’t. He stared into a blue-gray eye that seemed very alert, and also very strange and unfamiliar. 

There was no way to break the hold without doing something that would probably ensure he wouldn’t be invited back into this room. Dorian decided he’d wait fifteen seconds, or until circumstances forced his hand. _Fifteen- fourteen-_

He was at _three_ when the pressure abated. “Oh, crap,” Bull said, and it was him, every cadence familiar; and it was his hands that gently lowered Dorian to the mattress, and then lifted to cover the Bull’s face. 

“No need for dramatics,” Dorian said, hurriedly. “No harm was done, besides interrupting my beauty sleep.”

In the soft light of the wisp, the Bull’s harsh features blurred. “You’re a sweet guy, Dorian,” he said, and he still sounded like himself, but distant, all of a sudden. “You want to go back to your room?”

Dorian thought he did, probably- his bed was more comfortable and contained less chance of sudden wall-pinning- though at times that was a definite downside- but he was also unfortunately stuck on _you’re a sweet guy._ “Sweetness” had never been a quality he’d defined himself by. No one had ever told him he was sweet, not since he’d turned six and his parents’ friends had started expecting more of him than babble. “You’re wicked,” Rilienus had said, “you’re a terrible man,” with a sly laugh in his voice.

_Takes a tough man to do it, so good on you._

“Do you want me to?” he asked, and felt the Bull’s attention focus. Knew that the infuriating man was trying to find the answer that Dorian wanted to hear. 

“You didn’t sign up for me attacking you in my sleep,” the Bull said, with the tone of disgust he usually reserved for talking about demons or bandits. “Probably for the best if we both take some space.”

“That,” Dorian said, “is not an answer to the question that I asked.”

He was rewarded with a flicker of surprise, not on the Bull’s face but in a slight widening of the eye. “You really want to stay?”

“Also not an answer,” Dorian said. “You seem to be having a lot of trouble with the concept. Sit back down, for Andraste’s sake.”

The Bull settled back onto the bed, though Dorian could see he was the opposite of relaxed. It occurred to Dorian that the wisp might be making him uneasy. Dorian called flame to the large candles on the table and dresser, and dismissed the wisp. The candlelight was more difficult to see by, but it was warmer, particularly in the middle of an icy moonless night. 

“Do you want to be alone right now?” Dorian asked. “Yes or no.”

The Bull didn’t respond right away, which was good. That meant he was actually thinking about it, and his answer had a higher chance of being the truth.

“No,” he said, eventually, and Dorian let out a breath.

“Good. Then get back under the covers, it’s freezing.”

“I told you when we started that you could trust me,” the Bull said. “That I would never hurt you without your permission.”

“And you haven’t,” Dorian said, irritated. “You won’t. I told _you_ from the start- you can’t. I don’t _need_ to trust you. You can’t tie a knot I couldn’t burn to ash in moments. You can’t hold me down if I don’t wish to be held.” He turned onto his side, so they were lying face to face. “Look at me, you idiot. I also told you I did trust you. Even though I didn’t need to.”

The Bull didn’t meet his gaze, just lay there breathing slowly for a while. Dorian listened to the sound. 

“How did you wake me?” the Bull asked eventually.

“I shocked you,” Dorian said. “Perhaps it was not the most brilliant idea I’ve ever had.”

“Good,” the Bull said. “Okay, that’s good.”

“It is?”

“Yeah, that must be why I reacted like that. I’ve never done that before. It must have been the magic thing.”

Emotions sat on Dorian’s chest like overfed cats. Curdling jealousy, thinking of the people who’d spent the night in that bed before him. Something worse, curling around his throat to choke him. He swallowed, spoke past it. Heard the words come out artificially light. “Is it entirely foolish then? This liaison? A mage and a Qunari?”

Magic had always opened doors for him. He didn’t know how to handle seeing it close them. 

“Maybe,” the Bull said. Dorian felt his heart constrict in his chest. 

A big, three-fingered hand found his in the dark. “Hey. Just ‘cause it might be a bad idea doesn’t mean I want to stop. You don’t shock me next time, everything might be fine.”

Dorian wondered if this meant he was supposed to simply lie in the dark, listening to the Bull fighting something off in the Fade. It wasn’t a pleasant idea. But when he thought about returning to his own bed after each assignation, leaving the Bull to tremble and weep by himself, that appealed even less.

“What were you dreaming of?”

A pause. “What?”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Dorian said. “It’s just- if you wanted, I could- Well. I’d understand if you didn’t wish to take me up on the offer, but-”

“Dorian.” Very unfair of him, to sound so fond. “What are you talking about?”

“I could enter the Fade,” Dorian said. “And tell off whatever spirit is bothering you. Next time.”

The words hung there, dangling like shiny playthings for a sudden attack of insecurity. Foolish of him, to expect there’d be a ‘next time’. Foolish to think that a man so dedicated to being an enigma would at all appreciate any offer to pry into the contents of his nightmares.

“I think I was dreaming about a friend I had once,” the Bull said, quietly. 

Dorian opened his mouth to say something awful, like, “must have been some friend, to give you nightmares like that,” but mercifully the Bull cut him off.

“I keep trying to tell him not to go first, to hang back, but he won’t listen,” the Bull said. “And I try to reach him, but I can’t. And he’s just laughing at me and telling me about this fruit.”

“Fruit?”

The Bull shook his head, his shadow wavering. “Long story.”

“If we’re sleeping next to each other,” Dorian said, “we’re occupying nearby areas of the Fade. If you wish, I could come find you.”

He listened to the Bull take several long, deep breaths.

“Just to wake me up,” the Bull said. “None of Solas’s freaky dream sex crap.”

“You really think Blackwall was right about that?”

“Did you see the man’s face? He absolutely does it.”

“I’ll take your word for it. And no, no freaky dream sex crap.”

The hand that rested on top of Dorian’s curled, folding around his fingers with gentle pressure. “Think I need to find a better word than ‘sweet’ for you,” the Bull said.

“Oh, Maker, shut up, you horrible sap,” Dorian said. “Not another word. If I don’t go back to sleep in the next few minutes I am not going to be remotely in the mood for round five in the morning.”

“Can’t have that,” the Bull said, and he leaned forward to kiss Dorian’s forehead, before rolling over to face the other side of the bed.

Dorian remembered to extinguish the candles, but barely.


End file.
